


a powerful thought

by onceuponamoon



Series: abo jt/ebs [9]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, M/M, Moving In Together, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponamoon/pseuds/onceuponamoon
Summary: Jordan just presses a kiss to John’s jaw, snuggles closer under his arm where they’re cuddling in John’s nest.  “Would’ve been a hell of a wedding present, eh?”“Yeah,” John says.  He sounds monotone as ever, but he looks sad and his scent’s a little hollow, bitter rather than sharp like cinnamon and -- Jordan intends to change that.





	a powerful thought

**Author's Note:**

> hey so i started grad school and i'm definitely procrastinating finishing this paper but like???? here y'all go anyways

**March 2018**

 

The thing is, they knew midway through the season that they weren’t going to make it to the playoffs. Jordan had resigned himself to it well before John did, but with the way injuries started stacking up against trades and the way management was examining John’s impending free agency, Jordan just figured it was only a matter of time and simple statistics before they’d be eliminated as potential contenders. 

Then Zeeker’s wife, Kristy, gives birth and John looks at the pictures with a sigh, says to Jordan, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get us to the Cup.”

The unsaid, “ _I’m sorry we couldn’t start trying,_ ” doesn’t go unheard.

Jordan just presses a kiss to John’s jaw, snuggles closer under his arm where they’re cuddling in John’s nest. “Would’ve been a hell of a wedding present, eh?”

“Yeah,” John says. He sounds monotone as ever, but he looks sad and his scent’s a little hollow, bitter rather than sharp like cinnamon and -- Jordan intends to change that.

“You know it wasn’t just you, right?” Jordan says, leaning back so that he can make eye contact. “You’re...I know you’re going to, just because of who you are, but you don’t have to blame yourself. You can’t carry the weight of the whole entire island on your shoulders, babe.”

John huffs another sigh and clutches Jordan closer. A little belatedly, he says, “Don’t call me ‘babe.’”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

Burying his nose into Jordan’s hair, John huffs a laugh. His scent mellows a bit, goes sweet for a second and then he’s saying, “Move in with me,” like they’re discussing the rookies’ plus-minuses.

There’s nothing else for Jordan to say aside from, “Okay.”

 

Moving his shit to JT’s house takes all of two trips with his truck loaded down.

They probably could’ve gotten things unpacked too, but Jordan gets more than a little distracted watching the flex of John’s biceps, the strain of his shirt across his shoulders, the twist of his abs when he sets another heavy box down. He’s not, like, going to pop his knot or anything. Not without some stimulation, but the sight alone is working wonders. 

Jordan’s happy enough to just grin wildly when John puts his hands on his hips, surveying the room and saying, “I think that was the last of it.”

“ _Good_ ,” Jordan growls, wasting no time at all in tackling John to the hallway runner, shoving his face into John’s sweaty neck and _biting_.

Things...escalate. 

Very quickly. 

And then John’s laughing, but he smells so pleased that Jordan can’t even begin to feel embarrassed about how quickly he came. He’s just looking at him, bright and happy and completely disheveled with his hair half-matted from sweat and sticking up from Jordan’s fingers and -- Jordan just really, really loves him.

Once his knot goes down and John’s thoroughly complained about how floor sex was a terrible idea, Jordan cleans them up with his ruined shirt and starts herding John up the stairs so they can scent in bed.

And it’s -- it’s _their_ bed now, not just John’s nest.

Jordan intends to make the best of that.

So they scent each other for a while, talk about John’s mom’s most recent phone calls about caterers and a DJ since Jordan’s mom is taking care of the venue, and then about how maybe they should get started on the guest list and figuring out which of the ten bakeries they’ve been recommended should actually be responsible for their cakes. It’s idle chat, but Jordan makes note of the way that John’s nose wrinkles when they talk about dancing, the way he smells a little excited at the prospect of one of their teammates’ kids being the flower girl.

Eventually, though, John’s stomach growls and Jordan’s actually feeling a bit peckish too if he thinks about it, so they extract themselves and move downstairs into the kitchen.

Jordan, unable to help himself, presses John into the island counter and kisses him soundly until John’s purring; Jordan’s heart beats wildly as he thinks _our kitchen, our house, our life_.

He pulls away, smirking at the dazed look on John’s face.

“Whaddya want for dinner, babe?”

The fridge offers a cool reprieve as Jordan searches over the contents, trying to formulate a plan based on what they’ve already got -- which. Honestly, Jordan doesn’t know how he and John hadn’t already made the whole ‘move in’ thing official a long while ago. Half of what’s in here is shit that John doesn’t even like.

He turns, peeks over the door and raises an eyebrow.

John’s looking at his ass.

It’s all very subtle.

“Food?” John chirps once he realizes he’s been caught. He puts a hand to his belly, assessing as though it’ll tell him exactly what it wants. “Tacos, I think.”

Still smirking, Jordan turns back to start pulling the necessary ingredients off the shelves.

They work seamlessly together chopping onions and browning beef, making a salad with vinaigrette even though Jordan knows John would prefer ranch dressing. It’s easy and perfect and when they sit down to eat at the table -- because tacos are messy and John’s a primadonna about his couch -- John even lets Jordan feed him his salad. 

Jordan thinks about doing this every day for the rest of their lives.

Later, when they’re sharing tingly kisses on the couch while David Attenborough drones on about dung beetles in the background, Jordan finds himself smiling into them more often than not, enough so that John huffs, frustrated, against his mouth. “ _What_ ,” John says flatly; it’s not quite a question, not quite a whine.

He pulls back, giggling a little, says, “I’m just -- really happy.”

That, at least, puts a tiny grin on John’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it just -- it feels real now, ya know?”

John’s the one who smiles into the kiss this time and -- yeah, okay, Jordan understands the frustration. And, well. Maybe it’s as good of an excuse as any to start unpacking his shit.

He pats at John’s hip so that he’ll let him up. 

John pouts.

“Oh, stop it,” Jordan says, stretching his arms above his head until the tingles fade. “I wanna get my shit put away so I don’t have anything else to think about tonight except you.”

“Ooh, smooth,” John chirps, using Jordan’s hips to leverage himself up off the couch. He towers a bit, looming over Jordan until he bends in for another kiss, one that makes Jordan’s knees buckle a bit and melt into John’s chest, one that feels like _home_.

Jordan pulls away before John’s hands start to wander and says, “I love you, babe.”

Even though John’s nose wrinkles at the endearment, he replies in kind and follows Jordan into the foyer where half of his furniture and about a million boxes lie. He looks a little overwhelmed as Jordan surveys and sorts the boxes. At this point, Jordan’s a bit of a pro: everything’s appropriately labeled in big block letters, the bigger boxes have light shit, and the heavy stuff is in small boxes so it’s easier to carry. 

They make short work of the boxes, sorting them into the proper rooms before unpacking things like extra comfy quilts and a few throw pillows Jordan couldn’t bear to donate, a few perfectly seasoned cast iron skillets, literally all of his clothes, and more than a dozen framed pictures of his family. 

From there it’s just a matter of getting the furniture sorted -- which, most of it can go into one of the guest bedrooms, but --

“Okay, but like. We won’t have to lug your cooler upstairs ever again if we swap the nightstands out for these,” Jordan says, hoping he doesn’t have to resort to begging.

John frowns a little, because they’re definitely just slightly off-color from the rest of the bedroom furniture. 

He sighs, relents with an, “Okay, fine,” and then starts transferring the lamp, the framed picture of the two of them, and his first NHL goal puck from the top to the dresser while Jordan picks up the nightstand. It rattles and then there’s a loud clunk and --

“Oh, hey!”

And -- Jordan hasn’t heard that much delighted enthusiasm in John’s voice in a while, so of course he looks up -- to see John, looking fondly down at the silicone toy in his hand. It’s purple, strangely enough, roughly the size of Jordan’s cock, actually, with a swell slightly more towards the center of the shaft than where his knot actually lies. At the base, rather than just being flared like most dildos Jordan’s familiarized himself with, is a set of too-firm silicone balls. 

Jordan snorts. “That an old friend?”

John doesn’t look remotely embarrassed as he says, “Yeah. Had no idea where it’d gone after -- well, I guess it was the heat before we got together. Haven’t really had to think much about it since then.” He’s still smiling down at it, kind of...petting it, and -- “Should probably get it cleaned and put away, eh?”

A strangled sort of noise threatens to leave Jordan’s throat.

John tosses the dildo onto the bed and moves to shift Jordan’s nightstand -- complete with a built-in mini fridge for heats -- into place. Jordan’s still standing there, biceps flexing as he shifts his grip on John’s flimsy old nightstand. 

He’s not eyeing the dildo anymore, just the flex of John’s shoulders as he heaves the new furniture into place. 

“So, uh. Was that one your favorite, or…?” 

More than anything, Jordan hears the words leave his mouth, but he’s definitely more focused on the scent that blooms up around them, making it smell more like winter than the springtime breeze blowing in through the window should warrant. It’s like spiced hot chocolate, warm and rich and sliding down the back of Jordan’s throat. He shouldn’t be this hard already, but -- there are a lot of factors at play here, touching on each and every one of Jordan’s weaknesses.

John shoots him a sly look, like he knows exactly what he’s doing when he says, “It was my go-to, yeah.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t think it made me come the hardest though.”

Jordan tries not to shiver. 

Sighing, John says, “Go put that in the guest room and then you can ask me all the questions you want.”

His laugh, when Jordan scurries out of the room with the nightstand, is the best sound Jordan’s ever heard. 

When he returns, John’s stacking the items back into their approximate places on the new nightstand. He doesn’t even turn to look, but Jordan can see him smirking in profile when Jordan asks, “So, then was it just like. The easiest to use, or what?”

“Well,” John says, shifting to lie back against the mess of pillows, legs spread wide, “You know where your knot is?”

_Um_ , Jordan thinks. “...Intimately.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed, picking up John’s dildo before he shuffles up to lie back against the pillows next to John; it’s got a lot less give than Jordan would’ve imagined.

John fixes him with a flat look. 

He reaches over, takes the dildo back from where Jordan’s mindlessly flopping it around, and snuggles into Jordan’s side. “See where the knot is?” he asks, thumb and forefinger forming a ring just beneath it. “With where it is here, I can leave it in and wait ‘til I’m ready to go again. There’s not constant pressure on my prostate like there is when you knot me.”

His voice is all matter-of-fact, but there’s a blush biting at the tips of his ears and trailing down his throat from what Jordan can see.

Jordan swallows, clears his throat. “Which do you like better?”

“Your knot, obviously,” John replies easily. The eyeroll’s nearly audible. “When I’m in heat --” He pauses, clears his throat. “Sometimes it’s nice to have the control taken away, you know? I like that I can’t do anything about the pressure because you’re -- filling me up. Locked inside.”

Nodding dumbly, Jordan keeps watching John fondle the dildo and plucks at his shorts, trying to ease the demanding strain of his half-chub. “Naturally.”

“They both feel good, though.”

“Okay, but how?” Jordan asks, he squeezes at the tip of the dildo and, again, just doesn’t see the appeal. It’s too firm, too...artificial, really. There’s no give, no slide of foreskin or heat or _anything_ to make it really seem enjoyable apart from maybe the length and girth. Sure, it’d fill a hole, but that’s -- that seems like it’s all it’s good for. 

John braces up onto an elbow, turning to look at Jordan. “You’ve never used a dildo before?”

Jordan tries not to shrink under the -- well. It’s not scrutiny, not really. Just. Surprised curiosity. 

“I’ve been fucked in the ass before. You know I was with Taylor.”

“No, I know that,” John says dismissively. “But you’ve never used a toy?”

Shrugging, Jordan says, “I don’t think I really ever thought about it, honestly.” And -- it’s not that he’s like. Not familiar with his body, or has some old fashioned notions about alpha sexuality, it’s just that he really only likes things -- _dicks_ \-- in his ass when he’s craving it; he hasn’t actively craved getting fucked since well before he and Taylor officially broke things off. “They never really appealed to me.”

“Huh,” John says. He goes a little lax, leaning more into Jordan’s side so that Jordan can feel how he’s getting hard too. A few beats go by and then John asks, “Do you want me to show you?”

Jordan scoffs, “Like I’d ever say no to _that_.”

John scrambles off the bed to go clean the toy -- rummaging under his bed in a tub that’s -- full of sex toys and paraphernalia. Wow. But then he shoves it back under the bed, disappears into the bathroom, and returns a few minutes later, squeaky clean toy and a brand new bottle of lube in hand.

Back on the bed, John straddles Jordan’s thighs, and strips off his shirt. When he resurfaces, his hair’s even more fucked up, his color high, and -- Jordan _loves him_. 

“C’mon, bud,” John says, slapping at Jordan’s flank. “Strip. Let’s see what that ass can do.”

Jordan’s halfway through peeling off his shirt when the statement registers. He freezes, thinking, and then flings it over the side of the bed. He’s pretty sure John can scent the nerves, but rather than saying anything, John just gentles his touch, rubs soothingly up Jordan’s bared sides. 

His expression is inquisitive, a little hesitant.

The good thing is that -- it’s not even a matter of needing to steel himself. Jordan’s done this, or at least something like it, before. And he trusts John with his insecurities, his future, his life, his _heart_. And apparently his ass, too. Why not?

Jordan fixes him with a _duh_ look that leaves John snorting. 

“I’ll show you,” John says, expression earnest as the tone of his voice, “I’ll make it good for you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Jordan retorts. Sex with John is literally _always_ good. “Why am I nervous?”

John’s expression softens. He leans in, kisses Jordan with both palms cradling his face. “Because we’ve never done this,” he explains easily. “I probably would’ve been the same way, but, ya know. Heat.”

Huffing a laugh, Jordan nods. He touches the soft skin on John’s sides, rests his hands on John’s hips. “Yeah, you lucked out there, eh?”

“Yeah, I’ve got the whole biology thing in my favor,” John says, leaning in to rub his stubbly cheeks against Jordan’s. His voice is soft as his touch when he asks, “D’you wanna do this? If not, you can use it on me.”

“No, no,” Jordan says, “I’m -- I’m alright, babe, for real. I just didn’t -- it was kind of a surprise, ya know? But…” He shifts, tilts his hips up so that John can feel him. “I’m into it.”

John hums, frowning just the tiniest bit as though he doesn’t quite believe him.

Jordan, contrary in the face of his nerves, simply rolls to grab the lube and puts it into John’s hands.

But John just sets it down, settles in on top of Jordan for a series of mind-meltingly hot kisses. There’s nothing passive about the way he licks in to suck on Jordan’s tongue before sliding his hands up Jordan’s chest as he kisses down, and down, and down, making a sweeping pass to nibble at the bond bite, to make Jordan gasp -- and then he’s -- he’s looking at Jordan. He parts Jordan’s thighs, raising a challenging eyebrow as he starts to push them towards Jordan’s stomach.

Then the nerves are completely gone: Jordan’s swearing, tilting his head back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling as John licks a hot, wet stripe up the length of his crack, pressing a sucking little kiss to his sac. 

“Watch me, alpha,” John pulls off to say, and his voice is -- god, it’s already wrecked. He’s smirking when Jordan’s finally able to make his vision focus and --

“ _Oh_ , fuck,” Jordan says. He lets out a few harsh breaths that threaten to be moans and then John’s licking in again, purring open-mouthed and loud, eating Jordan’s ass like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. 

And -- okay, maybe there’s a tiny piece of Jordan’s brain telling him that this is a little taboo, which is probably why it’s so hot. He’s never been...submissive to an omega before, at least not like this. 

Not in a way that actually counts. 

God, he’d do anything John wanted. 

It’s a powerful thought, sweeping through him until his eyes prickle at the corners and he reaches down to tug gently at John’s hair, trying to get him to look up. When he does, his eyes are a bit hazy, his mouth is red and wet and he’s still purring.

“Fingers,” Jordan urges. “Please, I’m -- Get me ready.”

John keeps eye contact, purring louder as he rests his cheek against Jordan’s thigh, pressing a quick kiss to it before he reaches up to stroke Jordan’s cock, palming more than anything. His hand’s huge though, and when he spreads it out, his thumb edges at Jordan’s hole. 

Jordan gives a surprised little squeak when his thumb starts to sink in with barely any pressure, and it’s -- god, it’s so good. He hadn’t realized he’d been missing it, but -- 

He’s only in to the first knuckle and Jordan already feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind.

The purrs cut off briefly, John asking, “More?” as he keeps coaxing Jordan open with his thumb. At Jordan’s frantic nod, John smiles, pressing it into Jordan’s skin before he pulls back, casts around for the lube. He grins again when Jordan shoves it into his hands.

John’s great at following instructions, even if he tends to be contrary most of the time otherwise. 

But when they’re fucking, in bed, being intimate, _whatever_ , John’s attentive and responsive and preens under compliments, so Jordan makes sure to oblige. 

When John pulls out his thumb, Jordan chokes on a whiny growl at the emptiness, the burning, involuntary flexing that just serves to make him feel needy. But John’s quick, soothing with a kiss to Jordan’s thigh as he dribbles lube onto his fingers, smearing it in up the length of Jordan’s crack until he dips his thumb in again. He purrs at Jordan -- who hadn’t realized he was even making noises in response -- and uses his other fingers to grasp and squeeze Jordan’s ass.

Jordan makes a, “ _Hnn_ ,” noise that makes John chuckle before pressing another purring, open-mouthed kiss to his thigh. 

John works him slowly, kneading and coaxing with the gentlest motions that make Jordan’s legs tremble. “How’m I doing?” he asks.

Gasping out a laugh, Jordan says, “Shut up,” because he can feel John smirking into his skin. “More, c’mon, babe.”

After nibbling at his thigh, John sits more upright, coaxing Jordan closer with two sticky hands curled around his thighs. He scoots closer, spreads Jordan’s legs and moves him around until his feet are braced along the tops of John’s thighs and -- “Much better,” he says. 

He returns with his middle finger instead and it feels -- it feels _good_ , like the stretch of his thumb made him soft and open and wet to ease the way and -- before Jordan’s brain short-circuits at the pressure grazing against his prostate, he thinks about using this little trick on John the next time they’re doing things the other way.

“More,” Jordan says, choking on a growl when John nips at the side of his knee. “You’re -- you’re really good at this, babe.”

John rumbles out a purr and, staring heatedly, adds another finger to Jordan’s hole.

Jordan gasps at the stretch, but finds himself canting his hips closer, trying to get John’s fingers deeper. He chokes on his own breath when John obliges, coughs, and then shuts his eyes against the stretch, tossing an arm over his eyes. “ _Fuck_.”

Fingers stilling, John says, “Still good?”

At that Jordan lets out a high, unrestrained laugh. “Didn’t realize I’d missed this -- keep _going_.” Being bossy without actually putting some voice behind it earns Jordan a nip to his thigh again, and then John’s filling him up with three twisting and fluttering fingers, easing the way for a fourth and soothing at Jordan with his other hand on his thigh.

“Knot’s big,” he explains while Jordan’s wheezing, trying to keep from growling at the bright sharpness of being stretched -- more stretched than he’s ever been without an actual dick inside of him. “You’ll take it for me, though, right alpha?”

And -- god. _God_. John knows exactly what the fuck that does to Jordan.

Nodding frantically, Jordan grips his own thighs, cranking them back to his chest to ease the strain he’s putting on John’s thighs. Without something to dig his heels into, Jordan’s left to breathe as evenly as he can possibly make himself while John’s working him open. Luckily, John’s benevolent enough to tease at his prostate, mirroring it with a thumb to his taint and --

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Jordan breathes, wrenching in a shaky breath.

John deems his stretched, finally, and says, “Ready, alpha?”

Jordan lets his thighs fall apart, spreading wide for John. He nods and --

With coordination that Jordan definitely could never manage, John puts the toy between his knees, opens the lube with one hand to drizzle it on, re-caps it, and tosses it up near Jordan’s head, all one-handed. He’s still nearly palm-deep in Jordan, keeping him open and ready and --

John doesn’t quite take his fingers out so much as maneuver them to spread Jordan’s hole, easing the tip of the toy in -- stretching, burning, _shit_ \-- but then his fingers are gone and Jordan feels soft and wet and not at all in pain as his body relaxes around the toy. Like, yeah, it’s plastic and too-firm and a little weirdly textured, but it’s -- it’s not a bad thing.

He doesn’t realize he’s making soft, wordless noises until John swears; he doesn’t realize his eyes closed at the sensations, either, but then he’s blinking slow, heavy-lidded, looking at John looking at _him_.

John looks floored.

His color’s high, his nipples are hard, his mouth is open and a little dumb, but he looks -- he looks as blown wide open as Jordan feels, easing the toy deeper and deeper until Jordan feels the pressure increase and -- 

“That’s the knot,” John says, chest heaving a bit, “Can you -- are you -- _alpha_.”

Jordan doesn’t say anything, just holds John’s gaze and tries to leverage it deeper. 

John hunches in on himself a little bit, shuddering, and grasps for one of Jordan’s thighs, tugging it toward his chest until Jordan gets the message, hooks his knee around John’s shoulder. He presses the toy deeper.

Jordan moans.

Then it stops and -- the pressure’s right there, just a little more and Jordan’d be taking the knot and --

“Touch yourself?” John’s saying -- pleading, really. He sounds winded, desperate, voice thick in a way that means he’s wildly turned on and only barely holding it together. His scent’s fiercely bright, almost cloying, burning at Jordan’s eyes and the back of his throat, it’s so fucking spicy. 

Nodding, Jordan does it, coaxing himself back to hard as John withdraws the toy until it’s just the head holding Jordan open. He guides it back in, slowly, torturous, splitting Jordan fractionally wider as he starts aiming to get the knot in and -- god, he almost wishes it weren’t gradual, almost wishes that John would just fuck him hard, relentlessly, without abandon but -- this is good. This is good, too. He likes that John’s gentle with him, coaxing him into it, getting him used to the stretch. 

The knot splits him wider and then -- and then his body just relaxes around it, soft and wet with lube and --

“Oh, holy fuck,” John breathes, “Oh, my god.” And then he’s keening a wordless noise, screwing his eyes shut, saying, “alpha, _please_ ,” even as he shakily works the toy deeper and back out again, relentlessly working Jordan’s prostate.

Jordan’s too much of a mess to get out a cohesive sentence, let alone a word, so he flails a hand at John in a “keep going” kind of motion that has John switching up the angle to something a little more teasing.

“Johnny,” Jordan breathes, eyes screwed shut as his chest heaves. “You were right, you were right, oh, my god --” He cuts himself off, keening, and lets go of his dick because -- it’s so much. There’s so much stimulation going on that Jordan’s at least marginally sure that he could come just from John fucking him with the toy, looming over him, looking at him like -- like _that_. 

“You -- you’re -- you like this,” John says, eyes blown black. His tone is wondrous, a little shocked when he says, “You really do.”

“S’good,” Jordan slurs, scrabbling a bit at the sheets. “It’s so good, babe, oh, my god.”

John stops teasing when Jordan scrapes fingers up his own belly to his nipples, writhing a bit. He’s -- it’s right there. He’s grasping at it, so full, so _ready_.

“C’mon,” Jordan goads, “Make me come. Show me how you do it to yourself.”

He’s not really expecting John to work the dildo in all the way while wrapping his other hand around Jordan’s cock, stroking him off in a slow, deliberate rhythm, quickening only when Jordan starts gasping, shuddering, completely lost to it. Vaguely, beyond the thundering of his pulse in his ears, Jordan can hear John muttering something encouraging; he twists his wrist, squeezing Jordan’s knot and then Jordan’s _shouting_ , twisting up so hard that John has to hold him down, work him through it while he comes.

It’s -- it’s so much more intense than he’d realized it could be. He can feel it _everywhere_.

John’s saying something, and when Jordan focuses enough past his involuntary growling, he makes out the, “Oh, wow, thank you, _thank_ you, alpha, oh, my god.” 

Jordan thinks he might wheeze out a noise that’s slightly more encouraging than a growl, but he can’t be sure, especially not when John starts withdrawing the toy while Jordan’s still getting wrecked by aftershocks and --

“A- _ah_ ,” he says shakily, edging well past overstimulated.

But then John shoves it back in and --

Jordan’s cock gives another couple of weak spurts, dribbles really, and he’s gritting out, “Ah, okay, okay, fuck, _fuck_!” to the tune of John’s laughter, pushing feebly at John’s hands so that he can breathe through it on his own.

By the time Jordan’s able to crack an eye open, John’s still sitting there patiently, grinning a little bit, hand working his own cock as he stares between the dildo still wedged in Jordan’s hole and the mess of come all over his belly.

“Hi,” he says.

Jordan laughs, high and delighted and a little bit embarrassed. “‘Hi,’ he says. What the fuck, Johnny?”

“I -- can I come?”

There’s nothing inherently funny about John asking for Jordan’s permission to come, but Jordan still finds himself giggling, saying, “Fuck, yeah, come here, baby.”

It doesn’t take much more than Jordan pressing two fingers against his slick hole and a few tight little strokes before John makes a punched-out noise, bending mostly in half, hips working as he makes a mess of Jordan’s groin. 

Jordan’s cock twitches again at the noise and, honestly, if he could just _survive this_.

John slumps forward, spent, onto Jordan’s chest, breathing too harshly to purr, but smelling completely and totally satisfied.

Again, Jordan laughs and this time John joins him in it, cracking up. It takes a while, a long while of them sobering up just enough to start giggling again, high as fuck off each other, but then Jordan’s able to pet at John’s hair, make him purr and mouth wetly at Jordan’s neck. They’re a mess; Jordan should definitely take the toy out and find something to clean them up with, but -- he’s maybe a little bit afraid that any pressure against his prostate is going to make him come again, and he _definitely_ can’t handle that yet.

Without a word, John reaches down and slowly pulls the dildo free, kissing at Jordan’s jaw as he hisses and twitches. His ass feels -- weird. It’s flexing, grasping at nothing, tingling a little bit kind of like the way his muscles feel after a long workout.

After breathing through it for a minute, Jordan says, “Holy shit.”

John stops purring just long enough to say, “Told you.”

Jordan tugs at his sweaty hair and says, “Yes, babe, you’re always right.”

Bright and smug, John wafts his scent Jordan’s way when he crawls over him, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest before he climbs off and over the side of the bed. He disappears into the bathroom, returns with a damp washcloth and a pile of fresh sheets since Jordan absolutely killed these. 

“C’mon, J,” John says, “Up.”

Reluctantly, Jordan shifts onto his side and shuffles off the bed to land beside it on coltish legs. He laughs again, bracing against the bed until they feel a little more solid beneath him.

Jordan helps John strip the sheets, cracking up when the dildo flies off the bed and then rolls beneath it. 

Later, after they’ve showered and gotten back in bed to scent before bedtime, John asks, “So, that was a good idea right?”

“ _Obviously_.” Jordan rolls his eyes. “You basically broke my dick.”

John laughs, bright and happy, burying his face into Jordan’s chest. 

“But now I think we should maybe do the real thing. To, ya know...compare.”

That cuts off John’s laughter _real quick_. 

“Hmm.” He clears his throat, pets at Jordan’s chest, and says, “Well. I’m not going to say no to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://onceuponamoonfic.tumblr.com)


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